RPlog:Tarroc's Dream
The transition from the shadowed ceiling of his room at the Corellia home to sleep go unnoticed by Tarroc. However, the transition into what seems to be the dense underbrush of a tropical rainforest is much more noticed. Of course, surreality is a facet of dreams and this doesn't surprise Tarroc in the least; the question of why he is here doesn't even come to his mind. The sun shafts through the leaves of the giant trees; the canopy of the forest makes ground level seem darker and cooler than it would otherwise. There is a sheen of moisture covering the leaves, the ground, everything that moves, as if a rainstorm has just passed. There are sounds everywhere: the stirring of the leaves, the scurrying of small forest creatures through the underbrush, the everpresent cries and warbles of a thousand species of birds overhead. There's another sound: a child's laugh. It seems to be coming closer. The laughter seems out of place and completely in harmony with the other sounds of the forest at the same time. Tarroc takes note of it and turns toward it; then realizes its behind him and turns again. Nothing to be seen there either, of course. The moisture doesn't bother him overmuch; having lived on a pair of worlds mostly consisting of water, he's been acclimated to humidity. An insect the size of a man's palm buzzes by, transparent wings tiny compared to the round body they carry. The wings are iridescent, and the fuzzy body is purplish-blue. A split second later, a child comes crashing through the underbrush after it, arms pumping as she chases over brambles and thorn bushes, oblivious to the scratches afflicted to her long legs. But as soon as she reaches the small clearing where Tarroc stands, she stops, her attention diverted as quickly as a child's can be. Her hair is dark and red, and braided back from her face, though leaves and dirt cling to it and her clothes. Her face is fair and freckled, and reddened from exertion. She ignores Tarroc, or seems to, and steps on top of a great protruding rock, and gasps. "Oh, look!" Tarroc's head turns to follow the passing insect's path for a distance, though the rather noticeable arrival of the young girl draws his attention a few seconds later. "...Hi there," he begins, then quickly trails off as he realizes he is currently not the focus of her attention. His subconscious thoughts in this state are clouded; he knows this girl, he's sure of it. When the little girl turns around, it's as if she knew he was there all along. "Come and look," she says sweetly, holding out her hand to him. She smiles, the one thing about her that truly stands out: when she smiles it's the kind that melts hearts, even at eight years old. "Come and look!" Inclined to do as she says, he takes the hand and follows. Of course, his attention is split between what she seems intent to show him and trying to place the girl's face; it's so familiar. And the connection he tries to make is so close, yet so far away. When he takes her hand, she magically seems to lift him off the forest floor to the peak of the rock she's climbed upon. And there, though completely invisible before, is a view to astound. A huge waterfall pours thousands of meters from a lazy river that winds through the terrain, snowy white foam frothing at the base, projecting a persistent mist into the atmosphere for miles around. What had first seemed to be a rainstorm turns out to have a different source altogether. She's fascinated by the view, and cranes her neck for a better look. "Tarroc, it's beautiful!" Tarroc is captivated by the stunning landscape for a time, and even forgets to breath; not that it matters, either way. He is drawn back from his reverie when his suspicions about the girl are confirmed, however; he looks to her and asks, "How did you know my name?" The child acquires a hurt pout, her big green eyes go wide. "We're best friends!" she declares. "Tarroc, you have to learn to open your eyes, and see everything the Force is there to show you." The words seem incongruous coming from an eight-year-old's mouth. But they flow readily enough from her. "Sometimes things aren't what they seem!" Jessalyn. He remembers. "Sorry," he tries to explain. "It's just..." he stops his interjection, however, and nods slowly; he doesn't truly understand, though. He shifts his gaze to the waterfall for a moment, then back to the girl, "Where are we?" "Everything that ever was or will be exists, within the Force." How can a child sound like a Jedi Master. And indeed, her voice sounds more like the adult version of Jessalyn than the child. Perhaps this was the safest way to go to him. Then her smile returns, and she squeezes his hand earnestly. "Yavin. Where I grew up. I wanted to show you!" Tarroc's brow furls slightly; incongruous is indeed the operative word. His gaze is drawn back to the waterfall, and he is almost unsurprised when he notices that a few subtle changes have taken place since last he afforded it attention. He feels the greenery almost as much as he sees it, and the moving water is sensed as much as heard. "I knew you could do it!" she laughs, sensing the change in his perceptions. But all at once her expression sobers, and her eyes grow wide again. "I'm here, because I'm afraid," the young Jessalyn says, again sounding like the Jedi rather than the child, despite her words. "The Jedi Master is missing, and soon I will be, too. You need instruction." She doesn't give him time to respond, and she tugs on his hand, leading him down the rock and to a mountain trail that winds them downward to the base of the waterfall. "Missing? Who? Luke and.. you?" This bit of information confuses him somewhat; was there something she didn't.. or isn't telling him? His query seems suddenly drowned out by the sound of the waterfall, oddly enough, as he's led down toward the waterfall's end. "Where are you taking me?" Many questions from this one. As they draw closer, the mist from the waterfall grows thicker, and suddenly, as if time itself were irrelevant, the sky fades from blue to black, though spattered with the billions of starpoints that make up the universe. The girl clambers down to the edge of the huge lake formed from the water's fall, the scene strangely lit by a bright crescent of red -- the gaseous planet Yavin. "Don't be afraid," she says very gently, an echo of compassion. "You're safe. But a great task lies ahead. You must trust me, Tarroc." Were this not a dream, Tarroc would indeed be afraid. Since he doesn't really need to convince himself that this is a dream, however, he contents himself to trying to figure out the significance of what he sees. He ventures to say a single thing: "I trust you, Jessalyn." "I know you do," the little girl says wisely. She stands quiet and observant at the edge of the lake. Her eyes gaze upon the surface, reflecting the bowlful of starry sky above. "I'm sorry things will be so hard for you. I would do anything to change that." She turns, and bends her head slightly backward to look up at him. "You believe that this is a dream?" she asks quietly. "Are you going to tell me otherwise?" Tarroc asks incredulously, though he keeps his eyes fixed on the myriad of lights above. "I dropped you off, went home, get into bed and now I'm here. What else could it be besides a dream?" He puts forth a logical explanation. "Are these your memories?" Jessalyn asks softly, turning away from him and walking to the water's edge. She wades out, letting her toes sink into the soft mud, the cool, dark waters swirl around her feet in a gentle vortex. "No, of course not, but..." he trails off, looking around him. "Probably just a construct of my imagination. I've been to Yavin, and.. well, I spend a lot of my time on a ship..." More logic, of course. Not nearly infallible logic, however. He never saw a waterfall on Yavin. Jessalyn smiles at him from where she's wading into the water. Her fingers play along the surface, disturbing the reflection of the starlight above. "No. These are my memories. I'm giving them to you. You've only just begun to understand the power of the Force. Oh, Tarroc, I wish I could be the one to show you!" "Your memories?" Tarroc repeats, shaking his head. Things are getting a little weirder as time passes, it seems. All is put aside, however, as the fact of some of her words finally sinks in. "What do you mean, wish you could be the one? What's stopping you?" "Because," she says in a sad tone. "I don't know enough." There could be more, but she stops, and wades over to a patch of water lilies floating on the surface. "But I wanted you to see this. Come here!" He nods at the command and approaches obediently. It would be rather comical to an observer, of course, to see an eight year old ordering a young adult to come and having him do exactly as instructed without any hesitation whatsoever. Stepping into the water gradually, he finds it no more and no less comfortable than the open air he was standing in previously; this is definitely a dream-like state, if nothing else. Jessa plucks one of the lotus blossoms from its patch and holds it in the palm of your hand. "The first and hardest thing for you to do," she murmurs in her childlike yet coherently mature voice, "is to learn to feel the Force around you, and inside you. It's not something that just makes you powerful. It binds you to the rest of the galaxy." She hesitates, looking almost vulnerable when she turns her brightly lit eyes up to him, colorless in the moons' glow. "And it always has been. This is where I first saw mine. This can help you find yours." Observing the lotus blossom, Tarroc pushes the feeling that this is all a manifestation his imagination out and tries to feel for a bond with it. He had more luck with 'seeing' the Force, however, and stumbles in this attempt. Right now, it is a piece of organic matter in hand and nothing more. The look in Jessalyn's eyes compels him to try harder, of course, but to no avail. He shakes his head, "I don't know what I'm supposed to feel..." And so she shows him. With the sensibilities of a child, the young Jessalyn's mind reaches into the flowers, and its secrets are revealed as if it were a sentient thing, a life that is born and lives and breeds and dies and returns to the environment that created it. And somehow the very bond makes the flower grow. When Jessalyn smiles up at him again, she explains gently, "This was how I first touched the Force, before I ever knew what it was. When I feel separated from the Force, I can just remember this time, and it comes back to me. But for you -- " "It was flying --" And the sky turns and reels and instead of standing knee-deep in a Yavin pond, they are hurtling through the stars at dizzying speeds, images of ships and worlds whirling by, the only thing guiding them the Force. Entranced, Tarroc watches the flower maturing in his hand, then looks to the young girl. This has to be a dream, of course. He has little time to further contemplate the nature of his experience, however, as the nature of the experience seems to be ever-changing. The flower has vanished from his hand, and when he does a half-turn a smile comes to his lips. "I remember this... it was about seven years ago! I took the Morae out for a spin..." he fails to addend "without permission," of course. The fact probably wouldn't be lost. Almost as if she reads his thought, Jessalyn laughs. "See, you felt it then, didn't you? This is what I want you to remember, Tarroc. Learn to feel it always. This will guide you until you can find a Master." And when he brings his gaze back to her, she's no longer eight years old, but the grown woman, young and lovely, a Yavin rose perched in her hair. His head tilts to the side and he shakes his head, a smile lighting his eyes. "And you're telling me this isn't a dream, right?" Obviously, he expects her to confirm what he thinks is just an aspect of his imagination running wild. "No," Jessalyn murmurs softly. "It's the Force. And the images -- they're mine." She gives a small shrug. "I only hope they'll help." She hesitates, then widens her smile, almost shyly. "Also I.. wanted to say goodbye." This sets Tarroc's heart at rest. Their initial parting was somewhat subdued, but for some reason Tarroc has no reservations about expressing his feelings here. He steps forward and takes Jessalyn into a final, close embrace before she will leave him. "I'll see you again soon," he says finally as he draws back. There is a hitch in his voice; however, for him this has to be a statement instead of a question. He couldn't have it any other way. "Someday," Jessalyn agrees, a hint of fear in her eyes as she draws away, though her touch lingers on his hand. She is hesitating, that's for certain. She looks reluctant. But she knows not what else she can do to help rather than hinder. "The Force will be with you," she finally says in a firm voice. The attempt at maintaining contact is not one-sided. He reaches out as well as she drifts away; distance may make the heart grow fonder, but not when the object of one's affections is here now and leaving. He nods simply in response to her statement, "I won't disappoint you." Tarroc's Dream